[This story is a fan-made, transformative work inspired by mythology and the Record of Ragnarok universe. All original mythological and copyrighted characters belong to their respective creators and copyright holders. Nero Angelo and the storyline in The Voidwalker Chronicles are original creations by the author. This work is shared for entertainment and homage purposes only and is not intended for commercial gain or infringement of copyrights.]
The fate of humanity hung by a thread.
The last battle—the final reckoning—would decide mankind's survival.
In a dimly lit chamber beneath the arena, Brunhilde stood alone, scrolling through the records of humanity's final champion. One name flickered onto the screen, cold and bare: Nero Angelo. No history. No achievements. No traces. A ghost—like someone who had never truly existed.
Her voice broke the silence.
"Who are you, really?"
Across the room, his pale silver eyes met hers—shadowed by memories no one else could see.
"I'm someone who's seen too much," he said simply.
Before she could respond, a Valkyrie entered, quiet and composed. She bowed deeply.
"Use me as your weapon," she said without hesitation.
Nero glanced at her, an almost imperceptible smirk brushing his lips.
"I don't need a weapon to win a fight against gods."
The Valkyrie didn't flinch. She stepped forward, her resolve unshaken. She would follow him—not as a tool, but as a witness to what was to come.
As Nero walked toward the arena, each step seemed to ripple through the very fabric of existence. Reality bent subtly around him, like the world itself feared what he might do. Even the air held its breath.
Before they crossed the threshold, the Valkyrie looked up at him, her voice steady but edged with concern.
"Are you sure you don't need me to become a weapon?"
His cold gaze softened, just for a moment, as he met her eyes. A faint, wistful smile touched his face.
"How could I let a beautiful Valkyrie become a weapon? I won't stain your hands with blood."
A single tear slipped down her cheek. Her whisper cracked with hope and desperation.
"Please… save mankind."
Nero turned his eyes toward the arena gates, where the roar of gods and mortals merged into a distant storm. His voice was quiet, but absolute.
"I will."
And with that, they stepped into the arena—the final stage for a battle that would echo through eternity.